Magical misadventures of Mama Roger
by FiveMetersOfPrussia
Summary: Maurice and Roger give child raising a shot.
1. Chapter 1

Rock a bye baby

Summary: In which Roger has a panic attack and Maurice is stumped.

Warning(s): Feelings.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies

A/N: SURPRISE, ITS ANOTHER STORY INSTEAD OF AN UPDATE AHAHAHAHAHAH. I'm sorry, I will write them, I promise.

* * *

It was five o' clock in the morning and Roger was in deep shit. Stormy green eyes were open wide, staring listlessly at the door across from him, one arm resting on the rim of the toilet seat, the other draped uselessly over his mid section. He'd been sick for weeks, tossing up his meals almost faster than he could eat them, and everything was sore. His head ached and he was always exhausted and moody - moodier than _usual _\- and he'd been snapping at Maurice, who was growing more and more concerned as the days passed. Roger had chucked all of this up to a bad stomach bug and was content to simply believe it, right up until he found himself, mid hurl, desperately wanting a large, salmon sandwich with pickles and ketchup. Roger _hated_ salmon.

He'd thought and thought about it, done research for a couple days, and denied it heavily, but… After waking up at some ungodly hour to go and toss his cookies, yet again, Roger couldn't take it any more. He was going to have to accept it, whether he liked it or not. He was pregnant. Not even bothering with the how or why, he was just consumed with the thoughts of how badly this could, and likely would, go over. He wasn't good with children, he was never meant to be _around_ children, even when he _was_ a kid! What was he even supposed to do? What could he tell Maurice? Would he even believe him if he did? Brows furrowing, Roger swallowed hard and lifted a hand to cover his mouth as tears welled in his eyes, gaze still locked on the door.

What if he left him?

It was roughly an hour before Maurice began to stir, waking to find the bed vacant on Roger's side, as was commonplace these days. He sighed heavily and shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face slowly as he sat up and rolled out of the bed, stretching a little as he walked over to the bathroom, groggily running a hand through his hair. He was still too sleepy to remember manners such as knocking, and simply stepped in to the massive panic attack that Roger was currently suffering. The sight of Roger curled over, hands tugging lightly at his thick, dark curls, rocking back and forth slowly as he muttered to himself incoherently was enough to sober any situation, and Maurice was at his side in an instant. He was gentle as he whispered to him, lifting his hands to tenderly grasp Roger's, lowering them so that he could hold the trembling appendages in his own hands, thumbs rubbing slow circles across the skin. He was careful as he leaned in, whispering sweet nothings as he pressed their foreheads together, soft grey eyes seeking out Roger's green. Gradually, the rocking slowed until they sat still again, Maurice kissing his hands gently as a reward. He tentatively wrapped one arm and then the other around him, smiling as he felt Roger slowly shift to return the hug and slump heavily against him.

* * *

"I want a baby." Roger said one morning, several weeks later. He had effectively disrupted whatever thoughts Maurice had been entertaining, as well as the entire flow of the morning and likely the remaining day. "You hate children." Maurice said matter-of-factly, looking up at Roger from across the kitchen table, a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "You always have." he continued, confusion slowly coloring his expression as he watched Roger determinedly avoid his gaze. He didn't _hate _them, he just wash't _fond _of them, besides, this was different! "It's hardly a crime to want a baby." Roger muttered, fidgeting with the sleeve of the overly large sweater he was wearing. Maurice, who was always the more collected of the two, eyed him warily before sighing and resting his arms atop the table before folding his hands together neatly. "Alright," he said gently, deciding to throw him a bone. "_Why _do you want a baby?"

Roger looked away, curling his arms loosely around his midsection, falling silent for a long moment. It wasn't as if he would be able to keep it a secret from him for very long… There was even already a little bit of a bump starting to form and Roger had never been more terrified in his life. He stared listlessly at the chair beside him, brows furrowed as he frowned, the silence dragging on as Maurice's question hung in the air like a thick fog. "Roger?" Maurice asked after a moment, getting up to go and sit in the chair beside him as the silence lingered still. He reached up a hand and touched his cheek gently, startling as Roger's head snapped up, wide eyed and frightened as he blurted, "I'm pregnant."

It wasn't often that Roger caught Maurice completely by surprise, as he was very, _very_ accustomed to all of the strange things that he said and did, but this was one thing that he just did not have a response for. "Pardon?" he asked after a moment, swallowing thickly as he let his hand fall back into his lap, trying to shake off the complete and utter shock at what the other had just said. _Pregnant?_ "Roger, darling, I'm not sure you understand quite how that whole thing works." he said, though his words lacked conviction, his tone purely confused. He hadn't been feeling too well lately… Maybe he just felt that way? "I know how it works, you pillock." Roger snapped, scowling. "I'm sick at ungodly hours, I'm irritable-" he said, to which Maurice snorted and Roger shot him a look. "_More_ irritable," he hissed. "And…"

"And?" Maurice prompted, watching him warily, tone slightly skeptical. He really _was _convinced that he was pregnant… What on earth could have brought it on, though? It was true, he had been sick as a dog as of late but irritability went with illness hand in hand, particularly when it involved Roger. Roger shut his eyes tight and curled up a little in the chair, arms wrapping around his belly protectively. He didn't believe him… He _wouldn't _believe him. Swallowing thickly, Roger opened his eyes, staring strait down at the floor as he tried to brace himself, praying to whatever deity that was willing to listen that Maurice wouldn't leave him. He hadn't wanted this…

"And the tests came back positive." he said, voice barely above a whisper. The statement was followed by a pregnant pause, in which neither of them moved an inch or even thought to say anything else. Finally, however, Maurice sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was really bent on running this thing into the ground, wasn't he? "I have to go." he said rubbing a hand over his face as he shook his head. The expression that Roger wore as his head shot up, staring straight at him was something Maurice had never thought he'd ever see from him in a million years. He looked angry, firstly, confused, hurt, indignant, _miserable…_ But most of all, heartbroken. "I have work until late." he sighed, holding a hand up to silence whatever protest that had been forthcoming. "I won't be back before eleven-thirty, at least." he said, letting his hand fall back in his lap as he looked away.

That was all that was said for the rest of the morning, Maurice just silently trying to decide whether or not to believe Roger, and the latter just wanting to crawl into a hole and die. Why him? He hadn't even _wanted _a baby… Right? Maurice had stirred after a while, going to finish getting ready for work, slipping back into the kitchen to kiss Roger good bye, but his affection fell short as Roger turned his head away. "Roger…" Maurice sighed, bringing a hand up to touch his cheek. "Go." Roger snapped, shying away from his touch again. Protectively, he curled his arms around himself, shooting a razor sharp glare at Maurice every time he tried to come closer for a good five minutes until Maurice finally gave up and headed out to work. The soft click of the door sounded, signifying that, for several hours Roger would be left by his lonesome to make wild assumptions and have several arguments with Maurice in his head, but that would come later, Roger decided. Presently, he would have to deal with his own gross sobbing and he hated himself for it, but he wanted Maurice to come back, to hold him and rub his back and whisper stupid little things to him… But he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't do any of that ever again. "Its gonna just be you and me…"

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A/N: That's all for now, leave me a review and lemmie know what you thought?


	2. Baby talk

Summary: in which tiny babies don't make good conversational partners.

Disclaimer: I don't own lord of the flies, but I'm pretty sure I'm ruining it.

Warnings:

A/N: So this is a thing that I'm still doing. I feel like it isn't turning out quite as funny as I want it to be, though. Guess I'll just have to keep trying ahaha

* * *

It had been three weeks of sleeping on the couch. Three weeks of trying to properly apologize, which seemed to always end with Maurice promised yet another night on the couch, and three weeks of near whiplash. Of the emotional sort, of course. Roger couldn't quite decide if he was angry or hungry, if he wanted to be held or if he wanted to rip Maurice's kidneys out with his bare hands.

Fortunately, the latter had yet to happen, as Roger's baby bump was definitely beginning to... Well, bump. Roger spent quite a lot of time fretting over it, and if he wouldn't use any item within immediate reach as a murder weapon, Maurice would have gone to try and soothe his worries. He hadn't quite wrapped his head around how all - or any of this, actually - was possible, and had decided to simply accept that it was going to happen.

Besides, there was no way on god's green earth that Roger could ever parent a child by his onesie.

Maurice vacated the couch at the usual time, stretching uncomfortably as his muscles protested yet again. He really would have to make it up to Roger soon... Their couch was barely made for sitting, much less sleeping, and if this continued he might just end up slipping a disk. Again. Sighing tiredly, he rubbed a hand over his face and trudged into the kitchen, where Roger was already perched grouchily. The coffee machine puttered in the background quietly, seeming to go unnoticed for the most part.

"You look like hell." Roger said charmingly, furrowing his brows as he frowned lightly. Maybe it was time to stop making him sleep on the couch... Maurice looked himself over, one hand on the mug cupboard handle, and nodded easily. "Yeah, the couch is probably what happens when Satan farts." Maurice said, pulling two coffee mugs from the cupboard. Much to his surprise, Roger laughed, and though he didn't look over in time to see it, he rolled his eyes playfully. "That's what you said about geese." Roger hummed, propping an arm up atop the table. Maurice snorted. "Well, yeah, but geese are _born_ angry, and they are also made of pure, feathery evil." Roger just snorted and rolled his eyes, feeling a little less angry as the seconds slipped by.

* * *

The baby bump seemed to swell more and more each day, bringing on new and frankly, adorable waddly challenges for Roger. It was getting harder and harder to sit down in chairs without arms, he was ravenously hungry all the time, and he pretty much always had to pee. On top of that, he was getting quite lonely being home by himself all the time. Just because he'd chosen to do his boring office work at home and not subject himself to an onslaught of questions daily, it didn't mean that he wanted to _be_ alone... Right? Maybe he'd wanted that at first, because he was rightly freaked out by all of this, but now that he'd accepted his fate, he didn't want to be stuck here all by his lonesome.

Well, he wasn't technically alone, but their growing and still inexplicable baby was hardly a conversationalist. Besides, it was probably still a fetus... Right? Frowning down at his rounding belly, Roger sighed heavily and rested a hand on the bump. He'd have to talk to a doctor at some point about his medical anomaly... But he didn't want it going to the news, or to have any curious people beating down the door. Did they have any doctor friends? Between him and Maurice - who had infinitely more friends than Roger on account of actually being personable - they had to have at _least_ one that was willing to put up with Roger. Hopefully.

* * *

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the sky was blue, after a week of constant, miserable rain. By all accounts, it was a gorgeous day out, but Jack found himself in a rather grumpy mood. The lack of rain meant the lack of a justified reason to give his receptionist a lift home. It didn't necessarily mean that he couldn't still offer to do so, but it might constitute him having to explain his actions and he just wasn't having any of that. He was a grown man, he didn't have to justify his actions to anyone... Unless, of course, it was work related.

However, as Jack strolled into his office, he was dramatically unprepared for what awaited him. Or rather, whom.

Roger was perched in one of the rather comfortable chairs in front of his desk, arms folded across his stomach with a rather disgruntled expression on his face. This did not change for the better as Jack entered, instead turning to dread and worry. He shouldn't have come here, this was a mistake... Jack hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat gently and stepping further into his workspace. "Roger," he said in a rather professional sounding voice, folding his hands neatly atop his desk as he sat down. "What can I do for you today?" He asked, knitting his brows together. He was an ob-gyn, why was Roger even _here_?

Roger looked rather like he was about to be sick which, while not uncommon for most of his patients, was somehow more worrisome in this situation. "Jack, I'm pregnant." Roger blurted after a moment, leaning forward as he curled his arms around himself more. "At first I just thought it was a stomach bug - a really /bad/ stomach bug, but I kept gaining weight even though I spent pretty much all day puking, every day," Roger rambled, staring hard at the floor. "And I told Maurice, but he didn't believe me at first, which is understandable I guess, but it just keeps getting bigger every day and I hate being alone all the time, but I don't want to go back to work and have them ask questions because I'd feel like some fat science project and-"

"Wait, wait, go back," Jack said, holding up his hands to quiet the now teary mess across from him. "You're think _pregnant_?" He asked, frowning skeptically. Roger scowled. "I know I am, you pillock, weren't you listening?" He snapped, sitting up properly. "Roger-" Jack began, but was shushed by another cold stare as Roger wiggled his way out if the chair and waddled around the desk to stand beside him. If it was all in his head he was doing a very convincing job, he had to admit. Jack tried to pull his hand back as Roger pressed it firmly against the very real, very confusing bump that had become his belly. It certainly felt like a pregnant tummy, that much he was instantly certain of.

"Well this is uh... Unusual," Jack said politely, which was met with a groan of exasperation as Roger rolled his eyes and waddled back to his seat. "It isn't unusual, you ass, its _impossible_." He snapped grouchily. Jack stared at Roger for a long, uncomfortable moment as he thought, ignoring Roger's nervous squirming as he tried to decide where exactly to begin. After a pregnant pause, Jack cleared his throat again and tried his best to remember the schooling he'd paid so much money for.

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A/N: that's all for now! Hope you enjoyed it!


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